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Description
       The old North road was dusty, dirty, twisted, not level and uneven at spots. It was a wonder why the king decided to not to have engineers bring in paving stone. In the summer months, when it would rain frequently, the road would be inoperable and muddy beyond belief. Other times, we saw big rocks poke out of the ground in the ruts left by wagons and they would tear at the wheels of a poor man's wagon if he could not afford to have a metal rim put around this wheels.
       There was some haven along most of the road, a small one at that, being the large oak trees and cedars that lined both sides of the road, planted ages ago. They made this road bearable in the summer and colorful in the fall.
       There was a house that sat on the side of this old road, one not nearly as old as the road itself, but quite old. The house was made of red brick walls that beautifully contrasted the dark green vines that grey on it. The owners of the home had storm shutters painted to match the vines and a door with a rounded top to match.
       The woman of the house, Mrs. Penbrooke, planted shrubs, purple irises, perennials and other inviting flowers along the front side of the house. She was someone often seen trimming the hedges and planting new flowers when some had been killed by a frost or a storm.
       By the home was an old white stone wall that stood at an average man's shoulder height. There were a few trees that grew on the inside of the wall, so you could only see the chicken coops and horse stable during the winter when the chickens were shut in and huddling for warmth.
       Besides Mrs. Penbrooke, her husband, Mr. Penbrooke, and their two daughters Charlotte and Emily lived in the house as well. The man could be seen often working in the fields to plow, plant and harvest wheat, barley, oats, and occasionally potatoes. The daughters helped their mother in tending the house and doing chores. Emily was skilled at sewing, cleaning and cooking while Charlotte was good at writing, cleaning clothes, and entertaining guests.
       Both Emily and Charlotte loved to spend a few hours outside under the great oak tree in the back yard on a hill that overlooked the fields and could see for miles. A small chapel with a small steeple with two small bells whose sound could reach miles away.
       It was a nice warm April morning, when the Penbrooke girls were inside, knitting and crocheting with their mother in the drawing room before a big cast iron wood stove. Someone knocked on the storm door and Charlotte rose to answer. She opened the door and welcomed in a young man of about twenty. He wore high white leggings that went up to his dark green breeches that matched his over coat. He had a white cravat protruding from his vest and a scent of perfume. The man took his hat off and bowed to the ladies.
       "My name is Henry Clavermore." The ladies all set their crafts down and went to greet him. they all curtsied, holding the many layers of their simple country dresses up, not revealing their boots.
       "Do you wish to speak with the man of the house, Mr. Clavermore?" Mrs. Penbrooke asked.
       "Yes, miss, I wish to speak with Mr. John Penbrooke." Mrs. Penbrooke curtsied and went outside through the back door and rang the dinner bell. Mr. Penbrooke stopped plowing and walked to the house. Mrs. Penbrooke explained that a man had arrived wanting to see him. He straightened his Monmouth cap and his brown work clothes.
       Mr. Penbrooke went into the drawing room and saw the man sitting by the stove. "Ah, Henry, I thought that you would come by sometime to take me up on my offer."
       "What did you offer him, father?" Charlotte asked, sitting down with her needle work in her hands.
       "I met Henry and his father in town a few months ago. His father said that he is having a hard time finding work these days. I told them that if he needs work, I have plenty of it here on my farm."
       "Does that mean that you will let me work here, Mr. Penbrooke?" Henry asked. Mr. Penbrookse nodded and sat down next to him on a comfortable chair. "When do I start?"
       "We can start now. The day is young and there is much plowing to be done."